


Stuck

by Fire_Bear



Series: Sticky [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Angst, Florists, Flowers, Language of Flowers, M/M, Or Is It?, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-17 18:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13665018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: Arthur's work is becoming busy as Valentine's Day approaches. That is something he expects when he works in a florist's. What he's not expecting is to see his one-night stand from several months ago...





	1. On You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the continuation to the second version of Glue. So you can read that first. Or just read this? You don't really need to read that, I suppose...

"They're how much?!" the customer exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," said Arthur, though he wasn't really. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "We have a limited amount of red roses in stock and on order – they're a popular flower this time of year. There are, of course, plenty of other flowers which-"

"But I don't want them – I want red roses!" the man snapped.

"Then you'll have to pay for them at the current price," Arthur explained as calmly as he could.

"Urgh!" Spinning on his heel, the man stomped off, fists clenched.

"Was that another difficult customer?" came a voice behind Arthur before he could react himself.

Turning, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Red roses," he said by way of explanation.

Greg, the owner of the florist's and Arthur's boss, clicked his tongue. He was a bulky guy, pretty much the exact opposite from what Arthur had expected when he came for his interview. His head was shorn and kept as short as possible to deal with the heat in the shop. Arthur had never seen him without his green gardening apron and was half-convinced the man wore it at home. Considering his husband's good-natured teasing, he doubted he'd ever see him in anything fancier. At the moment, the apron was smeared with little spots of dirt, as was Greg's sweaty face. Arthur doubted he was much better – neither of them fared well in the month leading up to Valentine's Day.

"It's as if they don't know other flowers exist," Greg grumbled.

"Exactly," Arthur agreed. "If they'd just open a book – or even just Google it. I bet none of their partners want red roses, anyway. It's such a cliché and just goes to show that they haven't really thought about it beyond: Valentine's equals red and pink stuff equals red roses. I honestly despair for the human race."

"And you're only despairing about them since working in a florist's?" Greg asked with a teasing tone.

Arthur actually rolled his eyes. "Oh, hush. Do you need my help in the back?" That was where all the orders from the phone or website were dealt with so as not to interfere with the customers at the front. The shop was rather small, even with their online presence bolstering sales. At the front, flowers were set inside and outside the windows to entice people in. Then there was a mostly empty space with buckets of flowers around the edges of the room. A few stands contained cards and other trinkets intended to be given with the flowers. Arthur currently stood behind the counter which acted as the till area and a barrier to the door into the back room where the rest of the flowers were kept in large refrigerators. Countless desks would hold the orders being prepared for delivery or collection with dozens of vases and other containers. In a corner of that room were the stairs to reach the staff area for their breaks and storage for anything else they would need. It was a cosy place and Arthur loved it there.

"Hm," said Greg, gazing at the front door as he considered it. "Let me finish the page I'm on and then we can swap for a while."

"Don't forget to take a break," Arthur told him, sternly.

Greg glanced at the clock which hung on one wall. It was one which had different flowers around the edge instead of numbers. When Arthur looked up at it as well, he saw that the long hand was pointed down at the pink tulip and the little hand was pointing almost straight up, just a little to the left, and straight at some forget-me-nots: half eleven in the morning. He turned back to Greg with an eyebrow raised.

"Okay..." Greg said, slowly. "I'll work in the back till I finish this page. I should be done in half an hour. Then I'll spend half an hour out here before I go for a break and you'll be on your own. That okay with you?"

"Perfectly," said Arthur with a smile. "As long as you don't collapse from exhaustion, I can cope with anything."

"Mmhm," said Greg, hand on his hip. "Sure. You have to take a break after I come back from mine."

“Just a quick one,” Arthur conceded.

Sighing, Greg placed his hands at the small of his back and stretched. “Well, better get back to it.” He relaxed and pointed at Arthur. “If you get any more difficult customers, call me and _I’ll_ deal with them.” With those parting words, he ducked back through to the back, leaving Arthur to make up yet another bouquet of red roses while there was a lull in customers.

* * *

When it was finally time for Greg to take a well-earned break, Arthur was in the back room, rigorously checking and double checking the orders before he deemed them complete. His stomach was rumbling already but he ignored it, even as he was distracted by a shout from Greg. “Lunchtime!” his boss declared – just as the electric bell above the door sounded, sending a pleasant jingle echoing around the shop. Arthur paused, wondering if he should go greet the new customer. Instead, Greg’s voice boomed out. “Welcome!”

“Uh, hi,” said the person. “I was hoping to buy flowers for Valentine’s Day?”

Something about the voice made Arthur frown in recognition. But where had he heard it before? And why did he think of blond hair and a bright smile when he heard it now?

“Oh, sure!” said Greg, cheerfully. “We’re running low on red roses, though, and the price of them has gone up.”

“Aw, man, really?”

“Yeah, but we can make you up a bouquet that’ll still tell the person you love them.” There was a pause. “But I really should go on my break… Arthur! Can you take over?”

“Coming!” Arthur called out, tying off the pink bow he’d been in the middle of looping around his current work. He cut off the ends, set the whole thing in a vase, took a deep breath and made his way through to the front. Greg was coming through as he reached the door.

“This one doesn’t seem like he’ll be a jerk about the roses,” Greg commented. “But shout me down if he gets rowdy.”

“Of course,” Arthur lied, having no intention of dragging his boss away from his break.

Though Greg frowned at him, eyes narrowed, they parted ways and Arthur pushed through into the front room. He had barely gotten a single step into the room when he froze. There, looking just as surprised as Arthur, stood the last person he’d expected to see. His heart began hammering and he remembered That Night, all the sensations piercing him in a blur: laughter, happiness, soft lips, deft tongue, hands on his thighs, feeling perfectly full, the last glimpse of an awestruck man.

“A-Alfred?!” Arthur exclaimed.

“Wow,” said the man in question, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses. “It’s really you. When he said ‘Arthur’…”

“What-? How did you find me?”

That made Alfred’s fond, soft smile fall. “I, er, I wasn’t looking.”

“You weren’t-? Oh.”

They fell silent, both of them looking the other over. Alfred looked just as gorgeous as he had the night they’d met. His hair was a little wind-swept, tufts sticking out at angles. One of them still stuck right up in the air at the front of his head. This time, he was wearing a blue checked shirt over a purple t-shirt with some sort of design Arthur didn’t recognise upon it. Over that was a thick coat which he’d obviously unzipped as soon as he entered the shop. A thick blue scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck. If his red cheeks were any indication, he was still too hot despite the measures he’d taken to cool down. Glancing down, Arthur noted that he was wearing a pair of baggy jeans.

“Why are you here?” Arthur asked, tearing his eyes away to gaze at the till. There was a note upon it now which told him that the red roses had gone up by another few cents.

“I, uh, came to get flowers. For Valentine’s Day,” Alfred explained. He looked pained now, his smile lost.

“Who… Who are they for?”

Despite everything, Arthur hoped and prayed that Alfred would say, ‘They’re for you!’ That he’d grin and tell him that he’d remembered that Arthur worked in a florist’s, that he’d hoped he’d find him so he could give him as many red roses as he could afford. It had been only one, glorious night but Arthur had been longing for more for months now.

That one night had been so soon after Arthur’s break up with Kiku that he’d almost regretted it the next day. But he didn’t, and he couldn’t understand why. For days, weeks, he had agonised over it, wondering what would have happened if he’d made it to the bar, if he’d been able to wait for Alfred to come out of the club’s bathroom. Eventually, he had realised that thoughts of Kiku were completely obliterated in favour of Alfred and he’d wanted nothing more than to find him.

Unfortunately, with only a first name to go on, Arthur had hit dead end after dead end. Alfred wasn’t exactly an obscure name. He didn’t turn up to the club on the nights Arthur went in a desperate attempt to find him. There was no way he could ask the college for the details for one of their students. After a while, Arthur had given up, holding out hope that Alfred would find _him_ when he wanted flowers.

And now that had come to pass.

Yet, Alfred looked away at Arthur’s question and Arthur’s heart, which had lifted upon seeing him, dropped. “My boyfriend,” Alfred murmured, barely audible over the humming of the till and heaters.

“You… You have a boyfriend…” Arthur said in disbelief.

“I didn’t have one at the time!” Alfred exclaimed, seemingly panicking.

“Oh.”

Alfred, who had been standing a few feet from the counter suddenly surged forward, grabbing hold of Arthur’s hands. “I am so, so sorry. I didn’t _want_ to leave that night!”

Arthur blinked at him in bewilderment. “What?”

“My cousin, y’know, Mattie, he dragged me away. Ivan wanted to meet up with his sister who was across town and I… I didn’t get much of a chance to protest.” His hands squeezed Arthur’s in a show of sincerity. “I wouldn’t have left you by choice!”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Arthur told him, trying to pull his hands free. “I was dragged from the club as well. My friends decided it was time for me to stop drowning my sorrows.”

There was a short, surprised silence before Alfred suddenly laughed. It was just as joyful as Arthur remembered and he revelled in it, glad that he could hear it. “Man,” said Alfred. “What’re the chances?”

“Apparently, pretty high,” Arthur replied. He looked away from Alfred, glancing around the shop. The sight of all the flowers reminded him of why Alfred was there, and disappointment flooded him. He tried not to show it, even as he said, “But you wanted flowers?” This time, when he tried to pull away, Alfred let him go.

“Ah. Yeah. I-” Alfred stopped and bit his lip, ducking his head a little. Arthur turned his head away as well. “I’m sorry, Arthur. But I really like Mat, my boyfriend. Mattie, my cousin, says it’s weird that I’m dating someone with the same name as him but it’s not ’cause it’s only got one ‘t’.”

Looking back at him, Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What flowers are you wanting to give him?” he asked, trying to get this over with. “Besides roses. They’re really expensive right now.”

“Oh, um.” Alfred looked a little put out, perhaps surprised that Arthur was trying to hurry their meeting along, perhaps dead set on roses only to be discouraged. “I dunno, really. Don’t know much about flowers.”

“Well, what sort of message do you want to convey?”

“That I, y’know, like him. A lot.”

Taking a breath instead of sighing, Arthur asked, “As a friend or a lover?”

Alfred gazed at him. “More than a friend,” he answered, eyes fixed on the florist.

Looking around the shop, Arthur pretended to consider this. Instead, he was inwardly despairing. Of course he had lost Alfred, too. It had been practically inevitable. If he’d only insisted on staying, if he’d only stayed with Alfred in the bathroom, accompanied him out, they would… Well, what would they be? More than they had been on the night? Together? Who was he kidding? They’d have gone to either of their flats and been together for the rest of the night – and that would have been it. Alfred had never been _his_ to lose.

Still, he had clung onto that hope for months now. Kiku had left him. Arthur had abandoned his family. His friends were much more accomplished in love than he was, leaving him to have adventures of their own. Nothing in this town made him feel at home – it was all so different from England and he longed to go back. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to, knowing that he’d be pulled back into the family business despite how he had left them. His current job was the only good thing in his life now that he definitely couldn’t have Alfred.

Arthur loved his flowers and he would make sure that he treated them well, he decided, even if he had to sell them to a man he yearned to kiss.

“Pink peonies,” he said as he turned his thoughts back to his job. “Pink orchids. I suppose you could get pink roses but they’re only marginally cheaper than the red ones.”

“Hmm,” said Alfred, watching him intently. Arthur tried to ignore how it made tingles spread through his body. “But red’s his favourite colour…”

Humming in acknowledgement, Arthur made his way around the counter to where some of the other flowers were. He ignored Alfred’s presence, despite how much he wished for Alfred to come sweep him off his feet. Plucking a red flower from its bucket, Arthur held it up. “This is a carnation: it means admiration, deep love and affection. I could create a bouquet around them, using these and, perhaps, a few white flowers…” Glancing across the small space at the white blooms, he lit up and hurried over to them. He held aloft a daisy and a chrysanthemum. “Both of these mean loyal love – is that something you want to portray to him?”

It took a moment for Alfred to speak as he was too busy gaping at Arthur. “Wow.”

“What?” asked Arthur, a little nervously.

“You look…” Alfred trailed off for a moment, eyes distant. Then he seemed to focus once more and glanced between the three flowers Arthur now held. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”

“Of course I do,” Arthur replied, amused. “I work here.”

“Yeah… Um. Which do you think is best?” Alfred asked.

“It really depends on what message you want to send, Alfred,” said Arthur in exasperation. He immediately realised that he’d been far too familiar in that moment. It felt as if he had said this a million times before and he had to turn away to return the flowers to their buckets.

“Well… I just… I suppose I just kinda wanna say ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’?” Alfred explained, sounding unsure. “Or… Or, ‘I know we’ve not been together long but Happy Valentine’s Day!’.”

“Ah, so flowers meaning a ‘new love’. I guess that makes the carnations a good choice.” Arthur tapped his chin with the flower in question, the only one he had still to carefully replace. “I suppose pairing it with the white flowers would make for a striking display and would likely express what you’re trying to. Do you want a dozen flowers in total as we can have four of each – or six and two sets of three?”

“You choose. What d’ya think’s best?”

Arthur sighed. “Alfred, _you_ are the customer. _You_ are the one who should decide. You’re going to be the one paying for them, after all.”

“Ah, er, let’s make it all equal, then?”

Which told Arthur that Alfred really didn’t care for this Mat guy all that much. Shouldn’t he be putting much more thought into all of this? He suppressed a sigh and returned the carnation to its bucket. “Right, well, let me just ring that up for you.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” said Alfred, brightly.

“It’s my jo-” Arthur began as he moved past Alfred. But he didn’t get much further as Alfred grabbed hold of his arm to stop him. Arthur couldn’t stop himself from gasping, his body rapidly heating. Before he could regain his breath and his indignation, Alfred reached out to him, brushing fingers gently through his messy hair, a smile on his face.

“You’ve got…” he said, and his hand reappeared in Arthur’s line of vision, a red petal Arthur knew was from the roses in the back room held gently between his fingertips. “There’s more,” Alfred informed him. “You look so pretty like that.”

All Arthur could do was stare at him. His eyes were drawn to Alfred’s lips, as plump and red as the rose petal. Sternly, he reminded himself that Alfred was here to buy a present for his _boyfriend_. “That tends to happen in here,” he murmured, unable to raise his voice any louder in the gathering atmosphere.

Alfred hummed. “Then I should come in here more often, if I get to see you like this.” Again, he reached up. This time he only moved his hand as far as Arthur’s cheek where he let his thumb rub against it, just under Arthur’s eye. The florist stood frozen, unable to work out the best thing to do in these circumstances. “You’re amazing,” Alfred told him, soft and sincere. “The bouquet will be beautiful if _you_ make it.”

That decided things for him and Arthur jerked away, his hand coming up to block Alfred’s. “Then I’ll ring you up. At the counter.” He practically ran away from Alfred, rushing to put the counter between them.

“Ah,” said Alfred, jolting. It seemed he had just been brought back to his senses. “Yeah. Um…”

“Do you want it delivered or are you going to collect it?” Arthur asked, making sure not to look at him lest they both cave in to whatever seemed to be brewing between them.

“Oh! I’ll collect it,” said Alfred, firmly.

Glancing up at him, Arthur didn’t like the look in Alfred’s eyes. They seemed to be saying that he wanted to see Arthur again. On the day he was picking up a present. For his boyfriend. “When?” Arthur demanded. Then, remembering himself, he added, “On the day? The day before? Just before we close?”

“On the day,” said Alfred. “I’ll just come around now, if that’s okay?”

Arthur noted the information down and made a mental note to ask Greg for his break to be at the exact same time. That way, he wouldn’t have to go through this. He wouldn’t have to have his heart break in the middle of Valentine’s Day as the perfect man took away his own work to gift to another. He wouldn’t have to explain to Alfred that he never wanted to see him again after wishing for him to walk through that very door for months. He wouldn’t have to feel Alfred’s touch brush against him, sending Arthur into a frenzy which he knew wouldn’t be calmed until Alfred had kissed the breath out of him.

After asking Alfred a few more things, such as if he wanted a vase or not, and once Alfred had paid, Arthur almost sighed in relief. “That’s you, Mister Jones,” he said, having noted down his full name for the order.

“Artie,” Alfred said, his tone one of admonishment. “Don’t do that.”

“You’re a customer,” Arthur told him, not looking up. “I should treat you like I do everyone else.”

“Artie,” Alfred repeated, this time sounding uncertain. “I… Do you- Do you wanna get lunch?”

Head snapping up in surprise, Arthur stared at Alfred with wide eyes. “ _Lunch_? Why?”

“I just… I just wanna talk to ya.”

“Alfred…” said Arthur in warning.

For a long moment, Alfred gazed at Arthur, chewing at his lip a little in thought. “Look,” he said, finally. “I just wanna know. Why didn’t you come back? To the club, I mean. I went back the very next night to look for you and you weren’t there. I thought… I thought you’d…”

Flinching at the new information, Arthur wondered whether he should tell Alfred the truth or not. It was Alfred’s focussed eyes, his determined expression, which decided it for him. “I wasn’t ready, Alfred,” he said, a little sadly. “I wasn’t ready for what we did that night – or, at least, I didn’t think so the next day. And I definitely wasn’t ready to admit that, as soon as I- Well, that… That I’d forgotten Kiku that night. You helped me to forget and… Thank you. I…” Arthur trailed off and shook his head. “It took me a little while to realise that… I didn’t go back for a few weeks. I’m sorry.” Arthur turned his head aside, unable to look at Alfred’s expression as it slowly grew more pained.

“You mean… If I’d just…” Alfred looked rather horrified when Arthur looked up and, when the implications sunk in, Arthur felt just as bad.

If Arthur had gone to the club a little earlier or Alfred hadn’t given up so soon, they would have met again.

He couldn’t take it. “I have work to do,” he said, trying not to sound too cold and probably not succeeding.

“Ar-”

“It’s only a week away,” Arthur snapped. “I’ve got a lot to get done. Please…” He gestured at the door, though he couldn’t bring himself to actually order Alfred to leave. Thankfully, Alfred seemed to realise that Arthur needed time to himself.

Without a parting word, Alfred left.


	2. On Me

“You know,” said Greg abruptly on the morning of Valentine’s Day, “I remember my first one-night stand.”

Arthur groaned loudly, letting his head fall back. He was leaning against the counter in the front room, waiting for people to come collect their bouquets – and for the people who hadn’t bought anything for their partners yet to come in a panic. This early in the morning, no-one was around. It would get busy soon enough but, in the meantime, they were both relaxing after they’d worked late the night before. While they’d been working, Arthur had made the mistake of indulging Greg’s curiosity about Mr. Alfred F. Jones and why Arthur had looked so upset the day he’d been in. Now it was all his boss would talk about.

“Please don’t,” Arthur pleaded, though he knew it was a lost cause.

“It was just a few months after I realised I was gay,” Greg continued, clearly ignoring the fact that anyone could come in and hear this story.

“I already don’t like where this is going…”

“I mean, I didn’t realise till the last year of high school, so this was in the first year of college.”

“At least there’s that,” Arthur commented, wondering if he could go check on some of the flowers so he didn’t need to hear any of the sordid details. Plus, it was just weird to think of Greg with someone other than his husband James – whom Arthur knew Greg hadn’t met till he took over the florist’s after college.

“I’m not sure what year of college he was in, right enough, but I think he was older.”

“You don’t know?” asked Arthur in concern.

“I think his name was Freddy. Or was it Eddie. Hm.” Greg paused to muse on it, rubbing at the stubble on his chin.

“Does it matter?”

“Suppose not. God, he was gorgeous, though. Took my breath away.” Greg winked at him. “In more ways than one.”

Arthur groaned, aware that his cheeks were heating up. “Weren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?” he demanded.

“Let me get to the point,” Greg said, offhandedly.

“It’s taken you five minutes to get this far – I’m pretty sure I won’t find out what the point is until the end of the day.”

Greg shook his head. “So impatient. Kids these days.” He caught Arthur’s eye and they both snorted with amusement. Once he’d gotten himself under control, Greg continued his anecdote. “My point is that I loved every single minute of it. The best sex of my life – till I fell in love, at least. I used it as a measure of my relationships for a while and he was all I could think about. Though, not his name or personality. Just his body. The way his hands knew _exactly_ where to touch to make me squirm. How he found my pro-”

“Okay, I think I get the point!” Arthur exclaimed hurriedly, ducking his head to hide his grimace and raising his hands in surrender. His cheeks were definitely red by now.

“So you see what I’m saying.”

“Um…”

“I’m saying, honey, you need to forget about this Alfred guy.” Greg patted his head, only stopping when Arthur stood straight again. “He’s not worth upsetting yourself over.”

“It’s just…” Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I was waiting for him. I didn’t mean to be, but I was. And when he turned up again, out of the blue, just like he had that night, I wasn’t expecting… _that_.”

“I know.” Greg grimaced at him. “It’s a horrible feeling, isn’t it, when your crush finds someone else?”

“That’s just it,” Arthur admitted. “I’m not sure it was… _just_ a crush…”

“Oh, Arthur,” Greg sighed and drew the younger man into a one-armed hug. “Me and James are here for you, all right? You don’t need to hold back. In fact, why don’t you come have dinner with us tonight?”

“No, no,” said Arthur, quickly. “I’m not going to interrupt your Valentine’s plans.”

"Nonsense," said Greg. "Valentine's Day isn't that important."

"James would not be pleased," Arthur pointed out.

"I suppose that's true. What will you do instead?"

"I'll see if I can find a horror on Netflix that I can watch."

At that point, the door opened, and Arthur looked up in relief. Anything to distract from the conversation of his boss’s past lovers and current Valentine’s plans. It was still painful to think about and Arthur had been hoping to try to ignore it as much as possible for the day. That would likely prove hard to accomplish as everyone would be coming in to talk about it.

Except for the woman who walked through the door. She was older than both of them, her hair greying but still retaining some of her blonde locks, pulled up into a messy bun. Though her face was wrinkled, she still exuded youthfulness. Bundled up in her coat and scarf, she looked short and plump but Arthur knew she was thin and healthy – she had told him so several times before. When she spotted them watching her, she smiled and advanced.

“Hello, Mary,” Arthur said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Is it?” Mary asked, her voice light and airy. She paused as she took him in. "Your cheeks are awfully red..."

Turning his head away quickly, he sent a glare at Greg. "Yes, well..."

Mary chuckled. “What’s Greg been up to now?”

“I’m not doing anything wrong!” Greg exclaimed. “I’m trying to comfort him.”

“Oh, no. What’s wrong?” Mary looked appalled at the thought that Arthur was upset.

“Well…”

“It doesn’t matter!” Arthur interjected. “Honestly.” He gave Mary an encouraging smile. “What was it you came in for?”

“I’ve been asked to provide the flowers for the church this week,” Mary informed him. “But maybe divine intervention brought me here in order to cheer you up.”

“It’s honestly nothing important-” Arthur tried to insist.

“Mary,” said Greg, cutting him off. “What do you know of one-night stands?”

Arthur made a strangled sound, unable to believe that Greg had been so flippant about it. And that he was talking about it to an avid Christian such as Mary. He almost made another horrified noise when he noticed that Mary seemed to be considering her answer. After a moment she grinned, rather mischievously.

“I know a thing or two about them,” she admitted.

“But…” said Arthur, bemused.

“I was young, too, you know,” she replied, tone teasing.

“Arthur here saw the guy he got together with last week,” Greg explained. “He’d been hoping to see him again, only to find out he has a boyfriend.”

“Oh, no!” said Mary, all her teasing and amusement gone. “Are you okay, dear?”

“I’m fine,” Arthur hastily replied. “It’s been a few months, of course he’s moved on.”

“You poor thing!” Mary hurried forward and, ignoring the way Arthur tried to back off, she grabbed him and pulled him into what could only be described as a bear hug. “Did you like him?” she asked once she released him, though she still used her gloved hands to rub at his arms.

“I… I barely knew him,” Arthur told her. However, when she didn’t look away, Arthur gave in: he knew Mary well enough that she would keep coming in until he told her what was wrong. She had done the exact same thing after Kiku and it had been awkward, to say the least. “Yes. I liked him. He was such a refreshing change of pace from Kiku. So… So cheerful and full of life and… And I just felt better… after everything…” Mary immediately drew him into another hug. This time, he willingly went with her, clinging to her and wishing, somewhat, that he was home with his mother. It was an absurd notion and it helped Arthur pull himself together. “Not that it matters now. So!” Arthur clapped his hands once. “What flowers were you wanting today?”

"Oh, something cheerful and spring-like," Mary replied. "But, talking of one-night stands-"

"Oh, not you, too," Arthur said with a sigh, retreating to the counter to find a notebook and pen.

"-my first one was with a friend of mine," Mary continued, ignoring him.

"Oh?" said Greg, clearly interested. "What happened?"

Mary grimaced. "It was a mess. I honestly thought I loved him. Couldn't separate the sexual attraction from what I _wanted_ to happen. We had one wild night and he started dating my best friend. I had to watch them until I moved away and managed to pull away from them."

"That sounds horrid," Greg commented. He paused for a moment. "But was the sex any good?"

"Greg!" Arthur exclaimed, flustered. How was he supposed to salvage this situation?

" _Well_ ," said Mary, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Horrified, Arthur was infinitely relieved that the door opened and a middle-aged man entered, smiling softly. Arthur took the opportunity to escape. "Here," he said, thrusting the notebook and pen at Greg. "You help Mary and I'll deal with this guy." And he scurried off, smiling politely at the customer and trying to ignore the snickering from behind him.

* * *

As expected, their day was busy. People were constantly opening and shutting the front door, so much so that Arthur could feel the chill from the wintry air that seeped in. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much – though he may have started grimacing after an hour or so. Their ordered bouquets steadily went down, giving them more room to move in the back. More employees turned up for their shifts. Everything was constant movement and noise.

He appreciated this as it kept him from thinking about Alfred for too long. Of course, whenever there was a short lull or he stopped to take a breather, he thought about him, remembered that Alfred would be coming in a few hours, two hours, an hour. His heart always clenched at the thought, pain piercing him – even as hope surged through him.

When it was finally time for his break, he was massively relieved and hid in the break room. There, he forced himself not to think about Alfred being downstairs, of him maybe asking about him... It made it hard to eat his lunch but, eventually, he managed. And, when it was time for him to go back to work, Greg gave him a nod as they passed each other: the coast was clear. Alfred had been and gone and Arthur could stop thinking about him.

Not that that worked.

Finally, it came to the end of the day and Arthur was able to shut up the shop. Their flower stock was decimated so it was a good thing that they'd be getting another delivery of them in the morning. Once he'd pulled in the outside displays and locked the door, he turned to go check on the back room and the back door. However, he paused when he spotted something out of place. Sitting on the counter, in a clear vase, was another bouquet. It hadn't been there when he'd gone out of the door and Arthur wondered where it had come from or who it was for. Cautiously, he crossed the room to get a closer look.

In the middle of it, surrounded by other blooms, was a single pink rose: sweetness and poetic love, though the singular bloom usually meant love at first sight. Surrounding it were a few pink camellias: longing, wanting to be with the person. Dotted throughout the bouquet were bluebells and a couple of blue hydrangeas stood out on either side of the rose: an apology. Arthur wondered who it could be for and what the customer was sorry for.

Greg appeared from the back room, catching Arthur's attention. Looking up, Arthur frowned at him. "Did someone forget to pick up their flowers?" he asked.

His boss shook his head. "No," Greg said, his voice quieter than normal. "That Jones guy..." He paused as Arthur's eyes widened, his breath catching. "When he came in for the bouquet he had ordered," Greg continued, sounding apologetic, "he insisted on buying a second one. All he said was that there had to be a rose, at least one, and told me to convey a certain message."

"Who...?"

“They’re for you,” Greg informed him, though he looked pained.

“They-?” Arthur stopped, unable to believe that Alfred had done this. “Did he leave a note?”

Greg shook his head. “I even asked if he wanted to leave his number. He said no.”

“Right.” He let them lapse into silence.

“I’m going to cash up,” Greg said, carefully quiet. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

Once Greg had left him alone, Arthur let his heart break. It was only slightly less painful than when Kiku had broken up with him and it still made breathing hard, made tears gather in his eyes. He blinked them back, refusing to let himself cry in the face of an obvious truth. Instead, he stared at the flowers, wondering why Alfred had even bothered with the effort. However, his message was quite clear.

_I loved you at first sight and I wish I could be with you but I’m sorry - I can't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is my best work? Something's off about it but also, urgh.
> 
> I think it may be because I had a cold for most of the week and then I was away and then I was ill again and, urgh.
> 
> But, yeah, the next story in the series should be better! Hopefully.


End file.
